


swipe right

by lesbrarian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crack Fic, SQ Endgame, no seriously where in my brain did this come from tbh, pixie dust as dating app a la tinder and OKC, relationship silliness, semi slow burn SQ, wacky magical hijinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:41:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbrarian/pseuds/lesbrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the search for the Author turned up nothing, and Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. Tink's private stash of pixie dust and newfound familiarity with "real world" dating apps such as Tinder and OkCupid result in shenanigans for the citizens of our fair town.</p><p>Really, this is total crackfic that's been bouncing around in my head for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to mustdefine for being my beta, and to kalindaasharmas and the rest of you fab twitter folk for being sounding boards!
> 
> Please excuse any formatting errors -- this has been posted from my phone!

In a way, it was almost possible to blame the Author for what happened in Storybrooke that spring. Granted, it was less about what the Author _had_ done, and more about what the Author _hadn’t_ done. After all of the searching, no one - not the villains, not even the heroes - got their happy ending from the elusive scribe (it was unfortunately very difficult to find someone who refused to be found). And while many were angry about this lack of closure and change of fate, there was one citizen who was welcoming the chance to make things interesting. After all, there was never a lull in this town for long.

 

*****

 

It’s one of those gorgeous days in mid-April when even Mainers can trust that spring is finally here to stay. The sun streaming through the classroom windows feels almost summer-hot, which makes paying attention to yet another lesson on avian lifecycles impossible for even the most naturally curious students. Like Henry Mills. In fact, Henry’s mind has been wandering rather frequently as of late. Ever since the Author search had come up empty, he had sensed something strange in the people around him. Even though they all seemed okay, no one truly seemed happy. There’s a general air of complacency, a feeling that everyone has become resigned to their fate. No one has been trying to live, not really. It’s as if, now that there isn’t currently a new threat to fight, people have stopped fighting for themselves and their own happiness.

Much to her son’s increasing concern, one of the people who has stopped fighting is Regina Mills. And as far as Henry knows, his mother has never stopped fighting for anything his whole life.

And so it is with the stirrings of a brand new Operation in his mind (and his notebook) that Henry rides his bike to the convent after school, an unintentionally overheard conversation from a few weeks previous in the forefront of his thoughts.

_“We’ll find him, Regina. If it even is a him. I made you a promise and you and Henry made an Operation and when I say I’m in something, I mean it.”_

_“What if you don’t?”_

_“Don’t mean it? You know I--”_

_“No, don’t find him.”_

_“Then we find another way. Besides, who says we have to trust Tink’s pixie dust anyway?”_

_“Because pixie dust never lies.”_

_“And this is where I play my ‘grew up in the real world’ card, and tell you that maybe pixie dust is a crock of shit.”_

_“Emma!”_

 

Henry leans his bike up against one of the outer stone walls of the home of the Sacred Order of the Fairies (the popular name for the nuns among Storybrooke High’s freshman class), and makes his way to the nearby garden, messenger bag slung over his right shoulder. He spots the familiar blonde fairy and waves.

“Henry! Hi!”

“Hey Tink. Do you, uh, have a minute?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Well it’s .. is there somewhere else we can talk?” he asks, shooting a glance at the other nuns nearby.

“Oh! Yeah, come with me.” She stands, wiping the dirt from her palms on her skirt (shorter than regulation and with a bit of green tulle poking out beneath the hem, but then, Tink had never been one to follow Blue’s orders regardless of realm).

Once they’re situated far enough away from prying eyes and ears, Tink turns to Henry, hands on her hips. “So? What’s your secret, then?”

“It’s not a secret, not exactly. It’s.” He pauses, readjusting the bag which has begun to slip down his shoulder. He’s not usually one to hesitate when a plan forms, but there’s something niggling in the back of his mind, making him feel almost guilty about prying into the specifics of his mother’s personal life. Almost being the operative word.

“Did you use pixie dust on my mom to match her up with Robin?” he blurts finally. “And do you have any left?”

  
Tinkerbell blinks in surprise. The boy certainly has guts, she’ll give him that. But even she won't give away secrets so easily. “Why would I tell you?” 

 

*****

 

The nice thing about living in a convent, Tinkerbell has decided, is that convents are old. And old buildings have this wonderful tendency to contain plenty of secret hiding places that even Blue couldn’t find. Though nothing quite compared to the places she’d secured for her most precious possessions during her many years in Neverland, she has to admit that the curse-created Storybrooke convent is a close second. And for that, Tink is incredibly grateful. For she’s absolutely certain that should Blue discover her small but potent stash of pixie dust, she would lose her hard-earned wings once more.

Until now, the fairy with a Puck-like penchant for meddling in the romantic affairs of others has left the pixie dust completely untouched. But Henry’s questions have been swarming in her mind ever since their conversation earlier that day. Sure, the pixie dust hadn’t quite worked the way she’d planned the first time. But in her defense, she hadn’t quite counted on Emma Swan bringing back the formerly dead wife of the man she’d been led to believe was Regina’s soulmate (never mind the fact that Regina herself hadn’t even gone into the tavern back in the Enchanted Forest). Even so, the fact that said man had chosen the mother of his child over his supposed soulmate did little to dim Tink’s faith in the treasured dust. So it is with a mischievous smile on her face that she sneaks out of the convent that night, and heads towards the Lost Boys’ camp in the woods.

 

*****

 

After years in the forests of Neverland, it’s fair to say that the Lost Boys experienced more than a little bit of culture shock upon relocating to a coastal town in the 21st century. And while some things had immediately caught on (the whoops and hollers coming from their camp almost always signaled another all day Call of Duty marathon was under way), the restrictiveness of a traditional four-walled home was not one of them. So with help from the Storybrooke Parks and Recreation Department (and only a little bit of magic), the Lost Boys had created a fully wired village in the trees of the surrounding forest.

Tink checks the pocket of her skirt to make sure the dust is still packed securely there as she walks in, following the sounds of boys who, even outside the magic of Neverland, might never grow up here either. She grins when she spots them, lounging comfortably on their makeshift couches.

“Hiya, boys!” she says, perching on the arm of one of the couches.

A chorus of voices return her greeting.

Still smiling, she pulls the small pouch of pixie dust from her pocket. “Anyone in the mood to play Cupid?”

The wide grins and glints of mischief in the eyes of the boys are all the reply she needs. Carefully, the fairy doles out a small handful of dust to each boy, and sends them out into the town.

**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, it wasn't supposed to take me a month+ to update with another chapter. regardless, here's chapter 2! not sure yet how many chapters there will be in total, although i do have this all mostly outlined, so hopefully the wait won't be as long next time. also, you may have noticed that i switched tenses (which also included going back and fixing chapter 1 to reflect that change), so my apologies for anything that may sound a bit stilted this time.
> 
> thank you to ellabell for beta-ing this chapter, and to everyone in the dumpster for letting me talk at you all and for being generally awesome.

As it has every Wednesday morning for the past 32 years (even post-original curse, some routines stuck), Ruby Lucas’ alarm goes off at 4:30 am. It gives her just enough time to get up and shower before she has to open for the morning rush at Granny’s. Groaning and cursing, she groggily reaches for her phone and hits the snooze button, not remotely noticing the small spark of magic that alights on her hand when she touches the phone. Five more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Showered and dressed forty minutes later, Ruby grabs her phone from its spot on her nightstand and sticks it in the back pocket of her shorts as she makes her way downstairs. It isn’t until her first break of the morning that she notices something off. As she pulls out her phone to check for any new texts, it shimmers around the edges slightly before a hologram suddenly appears in front of her face.

_You have one new alert from PXY! Swipe to read!_

Confused but intrigued, she shrugs, then waves her hand in the air, and the hologram changes to show a message screen.

_Welcome to PXY, Storybrooke’s personal dating app, designed to help you find your very own True Love’s Kiss!_

Ruby snorts loudly. Of all the things for Storybrooke to adopt from their current realm, it’s an online dating app? Amused, she reads on, swiping her hand in the air periodically as she goes. Apparently, profiles exist for every citizen aged thirteen and older (because even outside the confines of the Enchanted Forest, some outdated ideas about romance remain alive and well), which meant that at this very moment, high schoolers were quite possibly being matched up with their teachers. Ruby shudders at the thought.

As more people wake up and stumble into Granny’s for their morning coffees, a list of nearby matches flashes in front of her face in quick succession:

         .  

But before she can get a look at more than just their app-created usernames and match percentages, Granny’s call for her to get her “little red behind back in here!” cuts her break short.

*****

Belle is filling up a book cart with the previous day’s returns in the sorting room behind the circulation desk when she hears one of the ancient computers in her office ding, signaling an email notification alert. Anyone who wanted to contact her usually tended to call, text, or appear in front of her in a swirl of magic, so it’s with a slightly puzzled look on her face that she approaches the outdated machine, which shimmers when she touches the keyboard.

 _Someone liked you on PXY!_ the message now hovering in front of her reads. Her look of confusion doesn’t waver as she follows the message’s instruction to “swipe to read.”

_Hi, bookishbeauty! redthief (70% match) liked your profile on PXY! Send him a message to find out if he could be your own True Love’s Kiss!_

“What on earth?” she asks, her voice echoing in the empty room. She’s absolutely positive she’s never signed up for a dating service, and even more positive that nothing of the sort has previously existed in Storybrooke. However, she isn’t at all surprised that her first message is from her current would-be suitor. And while she has to smile at that, it doesn’t stop her from being concerned that perhaps it’s instead some sort of trick of her former husband’s (a misguided attempt to regain her affections was something she couldn’t put past the Dark One). With a sigh of frustration, she flips the library’s sign to “Closed” and makes her way to the pawn shop.

*****

Marian del Bosque had not adjusted well to life in New York City. But for her erstwhile husband Robin Locksley, the opposite had been true. It turned out that city life suited the former forest-dwelling thief, and he’d quickly found a job with a team of contractors working exclusively on homes being created for the increasingly popular tiny house movement (Marian wasn’t sure if that was purely based on his skill, or rather if, like the ease of their takeover of Baelfire’s apartment, some magic had played a part in it). At the beginning, she had hoped they could get past things like snow queens and frozen hearts and love affairs, because Robin, in his way, had wanted so to try. But after just three months, they found themselves repeating the same conversations over and over.

 _“Does it really matter how I feel about Regina, Marian? I came with you to start over, didn’t I? Why isn’t that enough? Besides, Roland needs his father_ and _his mother.”_

_“I’m not comfortable here, Robin. You must know that. And Roland, we need -- he needs to be in a place where people understand him. And honestly, so do I. We can’t have another incident like last week! Thank goodness one of his teachers noticed he was missing before he got too far on that underground train. He doesn’t know how this world works, Robin. But at least in Storybrooke, he’ll be with people who understand him, who won’t laugh at his clothes, or--”_

_“And how just how do you plan on getting back there, Marian? Regina, when she -- when we ki-- when she said goodbye, she said it was forever.”_

_“I don’t know, Robin. I don’t know. But I have to try.”_

And if she’s honest with herself, she still isn’t entirely sure how they made it back through the barrier. But she won’t question it, because now she’s sitting here, on a bench outside of Storybrooke Elementary, hoping that today, Roland will stay with his kindergarten teacher and his class for the whole morning. At least here, there are plenty of resources for parents of children who have habits of running off into forests, she muses as she pulls her phone from her shoulder bag (one piece of modern technology she’s found useful). But even she, with considerably less knowledge about the workings of cellular telephones than others, is pretty sure it shouldn’t be shimmering like that.

The hologram now hovering in front of her catches her completely off guard, and she drops her phone on the sidewalk. In her scramble to pick it up, the hologram disappears, which means she misses the PXY message alerting her to the nearby presence of at least three people who she could, apparently, be paired with to find True Love’s Kiss.

*****

Over at the station, Emma rubs the sleep out of her eyes, and hopes no one has needed her sheriff services yet, because it’s 8:30 am and she’s just barely awake. It doesn’t matter that she’s been doing this for a week -- it’s still disconcerting (and if she’s honest with herself, a somewhat less than healthy trip down memory lane) to wake up in the holding cell at work. Even though she’s brought a duvet with her from the loft after one too many mornings being woken by an insistent, hungry wail coming from the vicinity of the kitchen -- and, god, if she’s able to distinguish between her brother’s cries of ‘feed me’ and ‘I pooped. Again. Clean meeeeeee,’ it’s probably time to start seriously looking for a new place to live -- it doesn’t make the metal cot any more comfortable. For probably the tenth time that week, she reminds herself that she really needs to talk to Regina about teaching her how to transmogrify furniture. She stands and stretches, wincing as her back and shoulders crack from a night of cramped sleep.  

The smell of freshly baked pastries breaks Emma from the trance she hadn’t realized she’d fallen into at her desk.

“Did you know you’re my favorite deputy?” she asks, swiveling her chair to grin up at Fa Mulan.

“The only competition is your father,” Mulan points out, setting a bag of pastries and a cup of coffee on the desk between them.

“Well, do you see him bearing gifts of caffeine and breakfast foods anywhere?”

Mulan gives her a small smile and raises her coffee cup in acknowledgment before moving to take a seat at her own desk.

Emma is mid-chew when her phone buzzes with its daily good morning text from Henry. Henry, who should probably be paying attention in class, but is instead texting his mother. There are worse people he could be texting, she supposes, as she picks up the phone to check it, curious to see which new emoji he’s discovered this time. What she doesn’t expect, however, is the way her phone glimmers and sparkles the minute her hand touches it. But when the hologram in front of her isn’t a girl with cinnamon bun braids asking for Obi-Wan’s help, and is instead this slightly flickering image wanting her to know that _illswashyourbuckle_ has already sent her three “mini kisses,” she throws her half-finished pastry across the room.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” she grinds out, and downs the rest of her coffee in three gulps, not caring that she’s probably burned her tongue.


End file.
